To The Victor
by LSgrimm91
Summary: Because we all want to know who won the arm wrestle.


**Quick diddy because RB wanted to know who won the arm wrestle :) Tag to an earlier story (The Eagle), but stands alone as a one shot. It's an 'epilogue to an epilogue' with needless - but much loved - Sam/Jack shippiness. Unbetaed. Enjoy!**

**~ To The Victor ~**

Their week had been long. Far too long. Sam sat across the table from Jack; it was in the early hours of the morning that she had woken up and wandered outside his Minnesota cabin, careful not to wake Daniel or Teal'c. She found her General outside, a glass of scotch in hand. They had talked, drank a little and freely enjoying each other's company. Jack stood and leant over the table.

"Alright. Let's do it."

"Sir?" she frowned. He dug his right elbow in a groove on the table. "Are you serious? You wanna arm wrestle?"

"I'm feeling a bit drunk, I'm old... and I've always wondered who would win. Step up." He beckoned her with his other hand. She obliged him, leaning across the table and grasping his hand tightly. Physical contact, even like this, didn't happen very often. It was only in the last few days, in the isolation his cabin offered, that that had changed. A friendly nudge of the shoulder. The occasional poke in the ribs. Once or twice, Jack had been so bold as to caress her cheek. She'd even surprised him with a spontaneous hug after they'd won a scrimmage against Daniel and Teal'c.

"Ready?" he asked. She gave him a confident grin. This was a long time coming. She wondered if he would go easy on her. Realistically, he was stronger and would probably win. That wouldn't stop her from trying.

"Don't worry Sir, I won't let you down." She smirked.

"Three, two, one. Go." He counted.

She felt the jolt in his arm as it tensed. Sam held onto the edge of the table for leverage. He was putting in some effort, but she couldn't move his arm. Slowly, he inched her hand away from her. He wasn't going to simply let her win. Their hands began to shake in exertion but Sam held fast. She managed to push back a little harder.

The temptation to use both hands and cheat crossed her mind. She seriously considered it when her hand hovered only a few inches above the hard wood of the table. Even as the table loomed closer, she didn't stop resisting him. With one last push, Jack had the back of her hand on the table, and Sam leaning sideways.

He'd won.

Jack chuckled and released her hand, leaning back into his chair. He shook his hand and flexed his fingers.

"Damn. That was a work out." He grinned, pouring another drink for himself and her. Sam lifted her body from the table and rolled her shoulder.

"I wasn't going to go easy on you, Sir," she accepted the glass of scotch he held out to her. He was still smiling.

"Likewise. You know Carter, I'm glad you made that offer." He tipped his glass to her.

Sam frowned and pulled her own glass away before she could take a sip. "Sir?"

"Well, you know, it may not have been wise to challenge your boss to an arm wrestle as soon as you meet him." Sam hoped he couldn't see the blush rise in her cheeks, "As soon as you said it, even if I'd taken you up on the offer that second and won, at least I knew I was gonna get a pretty kick-ass 2IC."

Sam lifted her glass and smiled with a fondness that she would have never bestowed on him in public. Before now.

"You know what they say Sir: 'to the victor go the spoils'." Even though she meant to say he was a winner all round, arm wrestling aside, she realised how much like an offer it sounded. If he ran with it, she doubted she would be disappointed.

Jack seemed to have had an epiphany.

"You're right, Carter. I did win." He nodded certainly. "And as the victor in the long awaited battle..." she giggled quietly at this, "...I reserve the right to have a drink with my favourite Colonel."

He touched his glass to hers and took a mouthful of the cool liquid. Sam revelled in the little flip her stomach did as he tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair and eyed her with a longing she recognised. Yes, she was well acquainted with that look. He stood and moved around the table.

"And, as the victor, I reserve the right to..." he moved his chair as close to hers as possible, "...sit and wait for the sun to rise with a certain Colonel."

Sam lowered her chin to hide the completely bashful smile that she couldn't hold back. Her boss could be a real sweet heart at times.

"And being such a graceful winner," Sam snorted. "I think it's only right to take the loser out for dinner some time." His manner became deliberately casual as he traced his finger around the lip of his glass. Sam, on the other hand, had just ceased most cognitive function. She looked at him. After a minute, maybe two, he turned to her.

"Well, maybe because you deserve to win every now and then," she gave him a playful smirk, telling him that she accepted his offer. He turned to look out over the lake that sat about a hundred yards away. Sam bit her lip, wondering if she would be able to step up to a different kind of plate again. She leant across and placed a ginger kiss to his cold cheek. He turned back.

"To the victor go the spoils," she reminded him. He chuckled and threw an arm over her shoulder.

"I won a long time ago Carter."

~ SJ ~

**Now, I'm off to update another story and stop being distracted. Any form of feedback would be muchly loved :)**


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